


Fireflies

by tripleleaf



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripleleaf/pseuds/tripleleaf
Summary: And the fireflies. The fireflies always surrounded him. He looked like an angel in the soft yellow glow.





	Fireflies

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from Tumblr: my attempt at magical realism at 2 am.

The day Brian first met Roger, there was a mass blackout in the city. Without a single candle in his flat to light the paper he was supposed to read, he decided to go for a walk instead. He figured it was a rare opportunity for some stargazing with all the light pollution gone, and so he headed for the nearby park, the clearing of which provided a wide, unobstructed view of the night sky.

There seemed to be no one at the park but him, it was so quiet at this midnight hour and he could hear the rustling of leaves and droning of the cicadas. He never noticed that they, too, were citizens of this city. There was only the dim light of the moon to illuminate his path, and the shadows frightened him, kept him straining his ears for any sound that would indicate any presence other than his.

When he got to the central lake, he did catch sight of another person – a young man on a bench overlooking the lake, who was pretty hard to miss because he was literally glowing. Several fireflies surrounded him, emanating a glow that lit up the beautiful lines on his face, his soft blond hair, his pale complexion. He looked up as Brian approached and sighed, his breath turning into smoke from the cold. His blue eyes were unbearably sad.

“Are you alright?” Brian said rather breathlessly. Because breathtaking this person was. Brian had never seen someone so beautiful.

Roger was not much keen on talking. He replied to Brian’s questions very curtly, and even ignored some of them, like when Brian asked him where he lived or how old he was or why he went to the park every night to sit morosely by the lake. Brian only knew his name was Roger, that he was a biology student, and that his hometown was Cornwall. Mostly they sat in a comfortable silence side by side on the bench, Roger gazing at the lake, Brian gazing at the stars (and more and more frequently now, at Roger, who didn’t seem to notice at all).

The day they first met, though, the silence killed Brian. He couldn’t stand Roger’s refusing to even make eye contact with him. He was frustrated, but found himself unable to leave, because Roger really looked like he needed help. He looked so sad and frail. A lot of bad things could happen to him.

Two solid hours went by. The street lamps came on again. It was getting terribly cold, and Brian had to sleep before getting up for his lecture at seven in the morning. He looked at Roger in despair. “Please, let me know who you are. I’ll take you home. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

And finally, a reply. “I’m here every day from nine at night. Go home now. Come back tomorrow if you like.” Then he seemed to disappear within the blink of an eye, and it was just Brian alone in the park, underneath the star-streaked sky, but he was in no mood for stars anymore.

There were a lot of things Brian should have noticed sooner. Like how the park was always completely deserted after nine. How Roger always left at midnight in a flurry of coat and scarf and was gone from sight in a matter of seconds. How Roger was unaffected by the weather, or anything else, it seemed. And the fireflies. The fireflies always surrounded him. He looked like an angel in the soft yellow glow.

Brian was surprised when Roger asked him a question, for the first time. “What’s bothering you?” he’d said.

Brian really had an epic shit day, in which the bus broke down and he was late and it was miserably cold outside and he had a mild headache and the latest pages of his thesis were god knows where, and he found himself leaving the house at precisely ten to nine to come to the goddamn park to sit with a stranger for three hours in the goddamn March wind. He licked his lips. “I’m fine, really. Nothing to talk about.”

“You’re lying.” Roger said sharply. “Why do you even have to lie to me? Why does it matter?”

Brian was still thinking of something to say, when, like a floodgate unleashed, he completely broke down. One minute he was determined to keep a straight face and not say a word, and then suddenly he found himself babbling about how terrible the other doctoral candidates in his department treated him because they were jealous he had landed the biggest research grant for a field trip to Tenerife the following year to gather data. And then the terrible bus ride, and the boring lecture hours, and the lost pages, on and on.

When he was finished, he felt exhausted, and still as frustrated, as if telling this stranger all his troubles could make a difference. He swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry. Frankly, I don’t think I should even be here tonight.”

Before he could gather his coat and stand up to leave, just when the thought of leaving entered his mind, in fact, Roger put his hand on top of his. He felt a warmth surge through his skin that went deep into his bones, and it was the oddest sensation ever. The weight he felt in his chest, the pain that had been throbbing in his head, the sting in his eyes due to his best efforts to hold back angry tears - all gone. Instead he felt a sense of relief, of lightness, and for the first time that day he noticed how clear the sky was, so that he could even see some constellations he had never seen in London before; how fresh the air smelled, despite the biting cold; how warm Roger’s hand was; how he felt more connection with this person more than he had ever had with anyone else. Roger didn’t withdraw his hand. He laced his fingers with Brian’s, and their hands fit together so snugly it reminded Brian of some idiom that had to do with a glove (for the life of him he suddenly could not recall what it was, but it was not the first time the English language had failed him).

“It always helps to talk to someone,” Roger said. “And you’re wrong. I’d be so lonely without you. Come back tomorrow.”

It wasn’t yet midnight, but Roger was gone. Brian was decidedly feeling so much better, so he went home and curled up in bed, sleeping like a baby. When he woke up the next morning, he couldn’t remember what he had dreamed about, but in his mind was the faint, warm glow of fireflies.

“Now tell me, what’s bothering you?” Brian tried for what must be the third time. Earlier that night he had confided in Roger about the long ongoing feud between him as his dad, and Roger’s touch magically made him feel better about it. They were more comfortable with each other now, as the way things naturally grew, and right now Roger had his arms wrapped tightly around Brian’s arm, his head resting on Brian’s shoulder. Brian was internally melting in this lovely warmth, this lovely light.

_Roger. Oh, Roger. What would I do without you?_

Roger closed his eyes and, as usual, ignored the question. Their knees were touching. A firefly had landed on Brian’s lap. “Look,” he started. “There must be something I can do for you. I really do want to help. I don’t know if you know just how much you have helped me. Please. Talk to me, Roger, please. Please.”

Heavy eyelids fluttered open. They were so close together Brian could feel Roger’s hot breath on his neck, and yet, at the same time, Roger was so far away. He was like one of those distant stars in the sky. Brian didn’t know how to reach him.

“I’m fine, really,” Roger finally said. “I can’t be bothered. Nothing scares me anymore.”

Brian wanted to ask why, but he knew it would be fruitless, so he abandoned his follow-up questions and soaked himself in the comfort Roger gave him.

“I love you,” Brian said one day. It was just like shouting into a void. The words bounced off of Roger and were soon dispersed by the wind. There was no indication that Roger had even heard him say it.

Brian was reading the daily papers when he saw a small title that said, “ **BIOLOGY STUDENT’S BODY DISAPPEARED** ”. The short column of text followed said that the body had been identified as Roger Taylor, aged 21, a student enrolled at the East London Polytechnic. He was first reported missing three months ago, and during the time since, there had been speculations that some kind of accident must have happened to him, because it was on his way home from university that he was last seen. The remarkable thing was that the dead body was in absolutely normal condition. He was no different from someone who just came out of the shower, only his heart had stopped beating. To their disbelief, the doctors had had to admit that the young man was really dead after examining his body countless times. The strange thing about this case was that the body had disappeared from the hospital morgue overnight, while it was stored in a locked room, and there was absolutely no sign of a break-in.

It somehow all made sense.

Brian set down his paper and looked at the clock. Ten more minutes until their usual time. He ran as fast as he could to the park and arrived at nine sharp according to his wristwatch. Panic filled his chest. The park was dark and rather quiet, but there were people there. So many people. Lovers, junkies, drunkards, the homeless. They were everywhere, in the shades, in the corners, on the benches, under the trees. There was a lesbian couple sitting by the lake, passionately making out and moaning, and there was no sign of Roger anywhere, and why were there people in the park, people other than Roger and him?

Brian waited until the couple were done in the park and seemed to be retreating to their bedroom for a wild night. He reclaimed his spot on the lakeside bench and patiently waited. After midnight he was getting very drowsy, but he was determined to wait. And then, at last, around half past two in the morning, the last of the junkies got up and staggered into the main street, leaving Brian alone.

Brian wasn’t alone for long; seconds later, Roger materialized right next to him, but without all the fireflies.

He didn’t waste any more precious time and got straight to the point. “I read about you in the papers. I need to know what happened. Please.” He didn’t care that he was always pleading. “ _Please_.”

This time Roger heard him and answered him right away. It seemed that both of them were aware of the little time they had left. “So here’s my story. It’s going to sound very absurd, but bear with me, okay?” Brian nodded solemnly, tightly clutching Roger’s hand in his.

“I hated this big city. There were so many people and it made me feel so insignificant. Nothing turned out as I had thought when I packed up my things and left my childhood home. So I usually went to the bridge to look at the water. It reminded me of home. I just felt so out of place and lonely here. I didn’t really have friends. I was seeing this girl, I think she liked me a lot, but I didn’t like her, and I broke her heart, and I felt really guilty about that. I don’t know. I don’t think it was that bad, now that I look back on it. I just really needed someone, I guess. Which corner of London were you in? Why didn’t I find you sooner?” he laughed softly, but soon abandoned his attempt at humour and continued, his voice quiet and careful, like he was skating on thin ice. “So one day in September, I was there at my usual spot on the bridge, when I just fell. The Thames is where I ended up. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel any different being dead. I think I’d been drowning all along. I was still lonely. Then the fireflies came, flying just above the water, so I could see their light every night. I went up to the surface, just my soul, mind you, and they led me here, to this park. It’s a nice, green park, so I came here often to watch other people and sit among the trees, and I discovered that at nine, I can take a physical form, and the park mysteriously clears up until midnight, so I sit by the lake all by myself. That’s what happened before you came. Then you know the rest of the story, don’t you?”

“Yes, but… what about _now_?” Brian said shakily. He felt like Roger could vanish into thin air any moment now, and it scared him so much he didn’t dare to look at his wristwatch or let his eyes drift from Roger’s ethereal face for just a second. His angel in disguise.

“Some idiot caught my body in a fishing batch. I reclaimed it last night. Now I think I must go. I shouldn’t even have been here this long. But I’m so, so glad I stayed behind for a while, because I met you, and… Brian, you have no idea how happy I am to listen to you, and to comfort you. I’d stay here with you forever if I could.”

Roger stood up. Before he could turn to leave, Brian had pulled him into crushing hug. “I’m sorry you drowned, Roger. I love you I love you I love you,” Brian whispered into his scarf.

“Here’s the thing. It’s okay to be scared. Remember that. It’s absolutely okay. It’s also okay to be sad. Just don’t be alone,” Roger looked straight into Brian’s eyes as he spoke. “And… I love you, too.”

He disappeared in one final glow. The park was dark for three seconds before the fireflies appeared from out of nowhere.

They lit up the way home. They followed Brian everywhere.


End file.
